


The Last Laugh

by raritysdiamonds



Series: Kinktober of Doom 2020 [2]
Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Interrogation, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Restraints, Roleplay, Teasing, Tickling, they're 18+ as always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:42:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27160622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raritysdiamonds/pseuds/raritysdiamonds
Summary: In any other circumstances, this would have been torture in the purest sense; the burning humiliation of not only having such a ridiculous weakness exposed, but being taunted and teased and cooed at like a smeet. If his fellow Irkens could see him now - his Tallest...But they would never know. This part of Zim was only for Dib, the part that would not only willingly relinquish his control but relished it more than he would ever admit, temporarily incapacitated with laughter while knowing he was safe in his human’s infuriatingly talented hands.
Relationships: Dib/Zim (Invader Zim)
Series: Kinktober of Doom 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1997167
Comments: 14
Kudos: 77





	The Last Laugh

**Author's Note:**

> for Kinktober day 23: tickling! This is maybe like 90% fluff and 10% actual smut but you should probably know what to expect from me by now lol.
> 
> thanks for reading and as always I would love to hear your thoughts!! <3

“Well, well, Zim - if that  _ is _ your real name - finally, I have you right where I want you!”

Zim blinked as a sudden harsh spotlight shone in his face, illuminating the previously darkened room and the predicament he found himself in: laid out on some kind of examination table, cold to the touch with a specially designed groove for his PAK the only concession to his comfort. His wrists and ankles were bound to the table, arms above his head, and as he tugged at the restraints his captor revealed himself, looming over Zim with a predatory smirk as he secured the restraints.

“That’s  _ Shmim _ , I’ll have you know,” he retorted, narrowing his eyes in a glare as an uneasy tingle shivered down his spine. “Shminvader Shmim, perfectly ordinary and  _ innocent _ human worm who demands to be released immediately!”

“Right...Shmim.” Dib’s mouth twitched, threatening to break character for a moment, but he took a step closer, placing a hand on Zim’s thigh. “If you’re a normal human - who just happens to be green - I’m sure you won’t mind if I do a couple routine human examinations, right?” 

Zim tensed, trying to suppress a shiver as Dib stroked his thigh before slowly trailing his hand down, tiny, invisible pinpricks of heat following in its wake, until he reached Zim’s bound ankle. With a soft  _ click _ of an unknown device, his restraints retracted, just enough for his interrogator to lift Zim’s leg and slide off his boot, exposing his small, three-clawed and distinctly inhuman foot. 

“Huh!  _ Fascinating _ .” Dib tilted his head theatrically, blinking in faux-astonishment at Zim’s foot as if he had never seen it before. “Would you call this a  _ normal _ amount of toes for a human, Shmim?”

“It’s a con _ dition _ -!” A strangled kind of squawk slipped out when Dib gently wiggled his toes, one by one, all the while looking down at Zim with a knowing gleam in his eye as they scrunched up, both in a doomed effort to protect themselves and in anticipation of what was to come.

“Is it? Or is it exactly as I suspected…” Dib curled his other hand around Zim’s ankle, holding it captive while he traced light, teasing, torturous circles on the pad of his foot that had no right having the effect on Zim’s squeedlyspooch that they did, “and this is the very  _ cute _ and obviously extremely  _ ticklish _ foot of an  _ alien invader?! _ ”

Zim’s eyes widened, but before he could protest against such slander, the devious Dib-fingers attacked and he promptly erupted into cackles, squirming and struggling ineffectively in his interrogator’s clutches. 

The first time Dib had deployed this particular technique, it had caught him entirely off guard. They had been wrestling for control of the channel-changing device, and Dib was insisting that Zim using his PAK legs to seize it was “cheating”. Zim had tauntingly asked him what he planned to do about it, and the next thing he knew fingers were digging into his sides and laughter pouring out of him entirely without control or permission, overwhelmed with sensations he didn’t quite know how to process, not painful yet inexplicably intolerable. They didn’t do this on Irk; they didn’t even have a word for it, affectionate, non-combative touch being practically nonexistent even among smeets. When he had demanded an explanation, Dib had  said it was it a kind of human play-ritual; in Zim’s superior opinion, it could be much more efficiently harnessed as a form of torture. 

The all-too-familiar glint in his human’s eye had alarmed Zim a little even then. 

“Zim is not  _ cute!” _

“What was that - _Zim?_ So your name isn’t even Shmim at all?!” Dib gasped in faux-outrage, scribbling mercilessly behind Zim’s knee as he squawked and kicked uselessly. “What else are you hiding, alien scum? You might as well just give it up and tell me, now I know your greatest weakness...” 

His playfully sinister tone seemed somehow to intensify the sensations, a fuchsia flush blazing across Zim’s cheeks as he shook his head frantically, determined not to give in - even if his interrogator knew too much. “Do your worst, large-headed filth!” he spat back, though the vitriol was somewhat undermined by the cursed giggles. “Zim is telling you  _ nothing! _ ”

“Oh, we’ll see about that…” Without warning, Dib switched tactics, scuttling one hand up under Zim’s tunic to dance over his belly while the other found its way to the delicate hollow under his arm; before he could stop himself, Zim let out a squeal, jerking in his bonds to pull his arm down, but he remained hopelessly exposed, utterly at his captor’s mercy.

“Aww, what’s the matter - is someone ticklish?” Dib chuckled along with him, all maniacal grin with the light glinting off his glasses like a mad scientist. “All you have to do to make it stop is spill all your evil plans…I wonder if all aliens are this sensitive, or is it just you? Guess we’ll need to do some more tests...lots and lots of tests. Especially on  _ these _ , which I’m sure are just  _ regular human antennae _ .” He moved his hand up to pull off Zim’s wig and scratch lightly behind his antennae, gently twisting and teasing them until he was chirping through his laughter, the combination of being tickled and pleasured simultaneously too much and not nearly enough. 

“Your...  _ underhanded _ tactics are pitiful, dirt monkey!” Zim panted, defiant under the onslaught of sensation he was no longer sure whether he was squirming to get away from or more of. “Zim has endured far worse than you could ever -  _ no wait not that!” _

His protests were swiftly lost to shrieks of helpless mirth when Dib rolled his tunic up all the way to blow an obnoxiously loud, wet,  _ disgusting _ raspberry on his belly; the spatterings of his mouth-fluids didn’t burn his skin like the Earth’s putrid water, but they were enough to leave a tingling sensation that seemed to reverberate through his body like ticklish electricity, only further blurring the lines between pleasure and torture. 

“You know, I  _ was _ gonna vivisect you…” Dib hummed, rubbing the tip of one of Zim’s antennae between two fingers and tracing swirly patterns on his quivering belly with another,  “but maybe I’ll just keep you like this and tickle you a little longer...as long as I want, maybe forever. It’s not like you can do much to stop me, right? Such a cute, sensitive little space boy, giggling your sweet little squeedlyspooch out for me…” 

Dib may have long ago lost the desire to truly cut Zim open on an autopsy table, but he remained every bit as relentless in discovering the most intimate workings of his body, albeit through very different means both delightfully unexpected and unexpectedly delightful. Curious fingers sliding over smooth green skin, skin that had barely been touched for centuries - and  _ never _ touched like this, tender yet merciless in his determination to seek out sweet spots even Zim himself might not have otherwise known he possessed, wringing out every last laugh and chirp and moan. In any other circumstances, this would have been torture in the purest sense; the burning humiliation of not only having such a ridiculous weakness exposed, but being taunted and teased and cooed at like a smeet. If his fellow Irkens could see him now - his  _ Tallest _ ...But they would never know. This part of Zim was only for Dib, the part that would not only willingly relinquish his control but relished it more than he would ever admit, temporarily incapacitated with laughter yet knowing he was safe in his human’s infuriatingly talented hands.

Hands that had now descended to teasingly trace the petal-like folds that had been slowly unfurling between Zim’s legs, the thin, soaked material of his leggings doing little to conceal his arousal. His hips jerked in his bonds, giggles melting into moans as he wriggled and whimpered, trying to rub himself against Dib for more friction, but his touch remained agonisingly light, tickling and caressing his inner thighs, circling his folds but never quite dipping into the heat where Zim needed him the most. “ _ Dib…”  _ What was intended as an order may have skirted perilously close to a plea, if Zim ever begged, which he did not. 

“You’re not supposed to know my name!” Dib pinched his thigh, his act momentarily cracking in the form of a fondly exasperated huff. “I’m the mysterious and merciless interrogator, remember? But maybe if you beg nicely I’ll consider going easy on you…” Then - perhaps most outrageously unacceptable of all - he  _ stopped _ , despite Zim not having uttered anything close to the safety-word they’d agreed upon, instead stroking Zim’s flushed cheek as he looked down on him with a grin as sharp as his eyes were soft, radiating both sadistic satisfaction and the purest, warmest adoration. “You’ve held out longer than I thought, but I still have all night to break you. I haven’t even gotten to show you any of my favourite toys yet…”

Zim would indeed be subjected to an excruciatingly thorough examination of his flawless Irken form, with Dib methodically targeting and tormenting every one of his sensitive spots; various instruments of torture buzzing between his toes and along his antennae, feathers and brushes and fingers everywhere, pushing him to the peak of ticklish ecstasy over and over again. Finally, he lay limp, eyes glazed over, tongue lolling out of his mouth and still tingling all over from overstimulation as Dib released him from his shackles, fussing over whether Zim was okay and he didn’t go too far (as if he could ever truly break him).

Still, he allowed his human to scoop him up and carry him to bed, even if he didn’t technically need to sleep, but Dib was soft and warm and conveniently positioned for Zim to curl up on his chest while he petted his antennae and told him how well he did (Zim was aware, of course, but had yet to tire of hearing it from his loyal love-pig). His throat was a little sore, but he still managed to remind Dib that vengeance would soon be his, when next time it would be Zim’s turn to exploit every one of his helpless human subject’s squishy sensitive bits. 

He slyly dug his claws into the soft flesh above Dib’s hip to feel him jump, but he didn’t retaliate, simply kissing the top of Zim’s head and retorting that he could try his best, but there was no way he could possibly be as ticklish as Zim. 

A score they would settle soon enough - but for now, closing his eyes in his human’s arms, Zim was exactly where he wanted to be. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading! Feedback is always appreciated <3


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